Chapter 2

Ireally shouldn't have counted my lucky stars about the lack of a thunderstorm. I shoved the sleep mask off my eyes and squint-glared at my new bedroom as thunder rumbled and rain battered the old window above the bed. The shapes of the wardrobe, desk, and shelves on the wall were still unfamiliar and my heartbeat quickened, but sudden lightning illuminated the sky, bright enough to drive through the brocade curtains, and I settled as I saw where I was and that I was alone. No bogeymen. No scary, six-foot-tall porter who'd broken into my room while I tried to sleep. For five hours, and counting.

"Ugh," I groaned, and let my mask fall back over my eyes, rolling over and hissing when cold sliced across my back as the covers rode up. I yanked them back down, shivering. This room was freezing, not at all helped by wind that drove through gaps in the aged window frame. The first thing I'd buy when I got down to the village—unimaginatively called Ford's End like the island—was a heater.

I wanted, very suddenly, to go home. But that was easier said than done when there were only two ferries a day until term began, when the boats would drop to one a week. Also, it was the middle of the night.

I was here to stay, and I had no choice but to live with it.

I sighed, relaxing into the bed as it began to warm again, and then jumped at a sudden crash of thunder and a rush of wind so severe that it sounded like a screaming woman. My body tensed instantly, and there went any chance of sleep.

I groaned. Why didn't I go to med school somewhere warm and temperate? I could have taken a gap year, or could have been studying medicine in Australia like Virgil right now.

Virgil…

I pushed up my mask again and fumbled under the cold pillow for my phone, light blinding my eyes as I stabbed what I thought was the clock app, closed the calculator app, and eventually found the world clock. It was just after two p.m. in Sydney. Thank fuck. I didn't stop to wonder if he'd be in class; I swiped clumsily at my phone until it began to ring, then mashed it to my ear.

"Prickly," he answered instantly, annoyingly upbeat. Maybe the Aussie sun was giving my serious oldest brother a sunny disposition.

"Poet," I replied, my voice rough. "I hate it here. Come rescue me."

He snorted, which was more like him, and said, "No chance. You got yourself into this mess, wanting to follow in Mum's footsteps. I tried to tell you the creepy island in the middle of the ocean wasn't your best option, but would you listen?"

"You don't need to gloat," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and staring at my room as another flash of lightning lit the unfamiliar walls, followed by the distant rumble of thunder. "It's freezing, and stormy. I'm in bed like a fucking ice cube."

"So get another blanket." I could hear his signature dismissive shrug.

"Sure, Virgil, let me just go get another blanket at three a.m. in the damn morning. Good idea. Capital."

"God, don't say capital. You sound like Uncle Edgar."

I snorted, smiling despite myself. "Was it like this when you moved away? The homesickness?"

Virgil sighed. "It gets easier. You get used to your new home, settle into your new life. Then when you go home, you feel out of place there. Fun, huh?"

"Your definition of fun needs some work."

He laughed. "You'll be fine. The first few nights are the worst. You're in one of those ancient dorms, right?"

"They're private rooms now, but yeah," I agreed, rubbing my eyes.

"There's gotta be a supply closet somewhere. Go explore, raid it."

"What has Australia done to you?" I asked with mock horror. "Explore? Raid? Who are you?"

"I'm you but better."

"Alright, asshole, don't quote memes at me. Go study or whatever you should be doing."

"You were the one who called me, Prickly."

"A lapse of judgement," I assured him sweetly, and then sobered. "It's not been the same at home without you."

"I'll be back at Christmas," he reminded me. "That's less than two months away."

"If you think that sounds optimistic, I have some very bad news for you," I drawled, my chest tightening. Two months until I could go home, until I saw Mum and Dad again, until I was in the same room as Virgil and Tannie. I didn't know how I would do it.

Families were only allowed on the island to help us settle in, and only for a single day. After that, they weren't permitted. I was completely cut off. If I hadn't had my phone, I wouldn't have heard from them for two months.

"You'll be fine, Cat," Virgil promised more seriously. "You got through what happened in—"

"I know," I cut off, a shiver moving down my body, memories sinking teeth into me. "I'd rather not remember. Thanks."

"I'm here if you need me."

"I know," I repeated, darkness closing in around me until I couldn't breathe. "I've gotta go find a blanket. Talk soon."

I put the phone down before he could reply, and flattened my hands over my ears like it would drown out the noise, the voice. But it was inside my head, my own memory weaponised, and there was no escaping.

I hadn't really meant to go hunt down a utility closet, but I couldn't lay here alone with my thoughts. So I threw off the covers, replaced them in the hopes they might hold onto the scrap of heat my body had left, and grabbed slippers and a velvet dressing gown I'd unpacked only hours ago.

It was silent in the hallway outside my room, but a silence I didn't trust, like the building was holding its breath.

I knew memories were getting to me, encouraging my paranoia when this was literally just a building full of med students, but I couldn't help but flinch at the shadows created by trees dancing outside the windows, gasping at a sudden glare of lightning. I hated storms.

The wind sounded like piercing screams, as if someone was wailing in grief in the Rosalind Woods.

It's his mother, a dark voice whispered in my mind. She's come to claim revenge for what you did to her son. You should make her pay, too. Make her regret raising a son like that.

I shuddered and walked faster, eyeing the numbered doors around me until I found one that wasn't. I held my breath, skin prickling as I prepared for someone to jump out and find me doing something I shouldn't. I opened the door slowly, wary of squeaking hinges.

Great. It was only cleaning solutions, mops, and buckets. I closed it carefully and moved on, goosebumps all down my arms and my breaths coming faster. The memories were too loud, history too close. I felt it like a shadow rearing over me, wanting to drag me down into the depths of Hell. Felt it reach out cold, clawed fingers, and I quickened my steps to outrun them, my chest closed off so I could only gasp.

I glanced down at my ring, but I didn't feel queenly enough to rule my own mind right now, let alone anything else.

I wanted to keep going and run off the island, but I stopped at the next unmarked door, and exhaled a hard breath of relief, a tiny weight falling off my chest so I could gasp down air. There were towels and blankets and spare sheets here. I grabbed two blankets and a sheet for good measure, closed the door, and hurried back to my room.

I was no safer from my thoughts here than out in the hallway, but I felt better with a door between me and the outside world.

I cocooned myself in the blankets, added another pair of socks on my feet, and forced myself to breathe, to relax, to forget.

I slept fitfully, and woke to the tinkling xylophone of my phone's alarm. Before I could even tell the alarm to fuck off, I jerked upright, blinking bleary eyes. Someone was standing across my room, watching while I slept and—

It was the coat I'd hung on my wardrobe door.

I slumped back onto the mattress with a groan.

This school was going to be the death of me.